


Denial

by Val_Creative



Category: Disney - All Media Types, Disney Cartoons (Classic), Toy Story Series (Movies), Winnie-the-Pooh - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Awkward Sexual Situations, Crossover Pairings, Family Drama, M/M, Sexual Tension, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-17
Updated: 2011-11-17
Packaged: 2017-10-26 05:20:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/279144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Val_Creative/pseuds/Val_Creative
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They toasted to rotten girlfriends. They toasted to their semi-decent scores in AP Math. They toasted the ability of the party to not being raided by the cops. AndyxChristopher Robin. SLASH.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Denial

:o:o:

 

There was nothing remarkable about his roommate.

Andy Davis thought he was your average-looking guy (a freshman just like him with an undecided major but inclined towards English and Psychology) with a record of awkward dating relationships and content to resign himself to carrying the burdens of his loaded but exceedingly dissatisfied parents (who called their room number almost every weekend, and Andy was the only one who answered these calls he recognized after a while with discomfort).

As your average male roommates in a double-roomer in a college populace of twenty thousand and still growing, they didn't say much to each other the first weeks of college— minus one or two-worded, stereotypically monotone greetings of " _Sup, man_?" and "… _good…_ " that would give a wound-up conversationalist a bloody aneurysm.

There was nothing remarkable at the illegally underage party they ended up drinking themselves silly into on Saturday night.

It had been a bust from the start for Andy. His girlfriend of six months decided to have it all out with him several hours prior, calling him ' _a sorry bastard_ ' and ' _uncaring asshole_ ' for some bullshit reason he couldn't recall after more than a couple Jell-O shots and one-and-a-half purposely spiked ice teas.

Most weekends were turning into this ritual it seemed.

She went to a different college on the complete opposite end of the state and must have worked it out in her wacked-out psyche that he _liked_ making her miserable by applying to this place and denying her their usual sex (as if he didn't have _needs_ of his own like any other healthy male of his age group).

From the leaning, broken armchair in the frat house, his summer-sky blue eyes blinked, noticing an approaching figure that weaved unsteadily through the dancers; a figure with a rumpled, plaid _Abercrombie_ shirt and uneven socks exposed by his too-short slacks.

His roommate—" _Christopher Robin" it said on transcripts, but he insisted on the nickname "Rob" to everyone; his full name was only a nuisance spoken by his family—_ slumped towards the nearby banister, laughing aloud as Andy rose from the armchair, grabbing his arm before he could drop to the cigarette-littered floor.

"Whoa… You doing alright, man?"

Rob ignored the halfhearted concern, replying to the question between the sudden bout of laughter, "…Donna broke up… with me… need… another drink..." Though it seemed like the worst idea to this dramatic scenario (Andy vividly remembered the stern lecture from his close uncle about the negative effects of purging away your problems, and what it had done to his side of the family), he was feeling up to another round of those deliciously alcoholic iced teas himself.

"Hold on."

 

:o:o:

 

They toasted to rotten girlfriends. They toasted to their semi-decent scores in AP Math. They toasted to the ability of the party to not being raided by cops.

It had been the most stimulating occurrence between Andy and his roommate since the beginning of the year. After that, the inebriated and excited fervor of their collective agreement on a variety of subjects calmed to an effortless discussion about _anything_ and _everything_ —and throughout it until they stumbled out of the frat house into the lightly foggy evening.

Andy realized a few important details during this time… _first_ ; even though he felt fairly sober, he was probably in no better shape than his magically floppy companion being led to the elevator of the dormitory with their arms holding up each other's shoulders… _second_ ; Rob was not only very open about what was on his mind but a very huggy drunk with him. It was not a terrible feeling.

"I used to think my toys could talk to me…"

Andy pretended to make an intrigued noise at that statement, unpeeling his clingy roommate from him and had him sit on their futon (there was no way in hell that Rob could make it up his lofted bed on the stepladder with how he was wobbling about), and turned away a moment to throw his keys on his desk. "Really, dude?" Rob must have thought he was making fun of him because of how his almond-shaped, dark eyes narrowed with clouded feelings of hurt up at him.

"I was a kid, alright?" He insisted defensively, "I didn't have a lot of friends and I had a lot of toys. I use to pretend that we would go on adventures… they would all live in the woods in my backyard…" Andy watched in silence as his fingers ran through his stylishly-ruffled dark brown hair, as if nervous, as if disclosing something so unbearably intimate. "Pooh Bear was my favorite."

As Rob spoke, the other male realized with a bit of surprise and an unexpected stomach flutter that his roommate had a hint of a British accent that had never surfaced before when sober—it had probably been deeply engrained in him and been lost from his childhood.

"I use to think my toys had a mind of their own. Sometimes I would lose one and I was sure that there would be no chance of it coming back… and then the next day, there was Woody next to me… as if I had him with me the whole time…"

"Woody?"

Andy added as afterthought, "My cowboy doll. He had a drawstring in his back that made him talk. There was Buzz Lightyear, Jessie the Cowgirl, Bullseye the Stallion, Hamm the Piggy Bank, Rex the Dinosaur, a Mister Potato Head…"

"I had a bunch of stuffed animals as a kid. A bear, a rabbit, a tiger, a piglet, an owl, and a kangaroo with a baby…"

"Dude… that's lame…"

Instead of appearing hurt this time, Rob grinned stupidly, shoving at Andy's shoulder good-naturedly. ""You had a _cowgirl_ doll… and you call me lame?"

Andy felt his freckled and already flushing face heat further. "I-I meant that she was my s-sister's doll!" He lied, wincing in his panic-induced stammer.

"Uh-huh, man."

_Damn, he didn't buy it._

"Shut up."

"You shut up," Rob repeated without a trace of malice, staring up into his summer-sky blue eyes with a strong intent. _So strong_.

Andy couldn't place it—and wouldn't have been able to with a clearer focus— even after it happened, as the other male on the futon reached out with both hands to clasp Andy by his polo shirt collar and pull him down with a hearty tug, mashing their mouths together in a heated, fleshy seal. The reality that he was being expertly _tongue fucked_ by someone he thought had been _indefinitely straight_ _and_ _not up for the notorious "college experimentation"_ came crashing harshly around a stunned Andy.

His spiraling thoughts polluted by the vast quantities of alcohol and sexual deprivation and unconcealed bewilderment were going in such a slew that he could not pick out one from the other. He would blame that entirely for his decision to push his drunk roommate down on the futon, crawling over him—their _lips_ ; _teeth_ ; _jaws_ colliding once more aggressively— Andy's hand slipping down for the buttons on Rob's jeans, earning him a earnest groan, his fingers fumbling blindly—

—the room phone on the wall began ringing. Once. Twice. A third time.

They froze at the same time, finally torn apart from each other, wide eyed.

" _Bugger_...," cursed Rob with his now pronounced and heavy accent (…and _downright sexy,_ and that wasn't okay… Andy's own consciousness scolded inside his head… _this can't be okay…_ ), rubbing his hands over his face with exaggeration.

Slowly, Andy removed himself from the other male spread out from under him, his heart racing, his hands starting to curl at his sides. A sixth ring. A seventh. His companion noticed the loss in weight, protesting faintly, " _Don't_ —"

It's your parents. Just take the fucking call," Andy snapped, shuffling away, the early development of a nauseated hangover closing in, his mouth tingling from the previous abuse and lower lip bleeding a little as he sucked it clean between his teeth, and still painfully _aroused_.

He continued numbly shuffling to his own lofted bed, managing to make it up without tumbling off, and rolled over still with all his clothes on to turn off his overhead lamp.

There was nothing remarkable about his roommate as he stumbled back on his feet, meekly answering the angry voices on the phone— his _guiltily blushing_ lips pressing together into a thin line.

 

:o:o:

**Author's Note:**

> Guess who has officially ruined her childhood? And this all came to be because my little brother and I made the connection that Andy and Christopher Robin went to college.
> 
> Well, if you have any kind of comment to leave me... I'm open to them... about how you now ship this like whoa/your astonishment on how the hell I managed to escape the asylum/anything of the sort.


End file.
